


Kid: Private Investigator

by dugwrites



Category: Bastion
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5966041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dugwrites/pseuds/dugwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Calamity has not happened. Kid never took a second shift as a Mason. Life has gone on as it goes, leading him to the career of a PI. Life is strange. An impossible past casts shadows and echoes he can’t explain and can’t understand. Lately, they’ve only been getting more intense.</p><p>This is a Bastion fanfiction story inspired by jazz and detective pulp novels. General, mostly. Romance is not the focus though there is definitely some Zulf/Fiancée. There are some pretty heavy tones of Zia/Kid throughout because I actually cannot help it, a hallmark of detective fic is some romantic tension and thirsting— [whispers] also im otp trash— that may become a full relationship at some point. I hate ship teasing as much as the next person.</p><p>Rating is for violence, alcohol, and profanity. May have smoking or allusions/acknowledgement of the existence of sex at some point?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Private Investigator

_**Chapter Song:**_ [Harlem Nocturne by the Lounge Lizards](https://youtu.be/Ku4JSy6rOqY)  


* * *

  
  
_**The Target**_  
  
"IiiiiIIT'S a B-E-A-utiful spring morning in Caelondia so enjoy our wonderful city today, folks! We are having a cold snap, so don't forget your coats, everyone. Still, with the sun shining and the birds singing the way they are, gee, ain't no one got reason to frown today. Speaking of singing, here's one fr-"  
  
I shut off the radio. Damn cheery announcer. It was just getting on my nerves and my nerves were about as frazzled as I could take.  
  
Someone knocked on my door— I almost jumped out of my boots. In this matchbox of a flophouse room, there was no missing it. I crouched and kept real still. Barely breathed. Funny thing about breathing, you didn't hear yourself do it 'til you were trying to control it. Tried to focus so I'd hear a mouse peep but nothing.  
  
Another knock. Shit. They found me. I looked nervously at the closed closet door. It was all I could muster. Hell, I got some out of that nagging hellion of a wife's bank account too. It still wasn't a fraction of what I owed but enough of a start that once the numbers were back in my favour, none of this would matter. I just needed time. A little time.  
  
The knock came again. Damn! There was no time. They'd been putting the screws on me heavy lately. Morty's toughs had a reputation. They made you hurt. A lot. They wouldn't kill you but you'd wish they had. He was all bottom line. I would be worth more alive and working to the bone than dead. I should have gone to The Banker. Ruthless jackass, pretentious, all flash and image- but that kinda focus on reputation meant he put you down quick. Too late for that. I looked for escape routes. I already knew there were none. Even if I broke the windows, they were too small to squeeze through.  
  
Fourth knock. My heart was pounding. Maybe- Maybe I was paranoid, huh? Maybe management trying to wring more rent out of me? Hell, maybe a salesman.  
  
Knocking again. I almost laughed, like a maniac. Of course it weren't any of that. Except, Mort's toughs, why wouldn't they just kick down the door? Banker's boys maybe, they put on airs like their boss and had some finesse.  
  
All this thinking was useless. I might as well go down swinging, right? Only, it would have to be swinging any old thing. I arranged to get a gun tonight but I didn't have time, did I? No. I padded towards the bedside table where there was a candlestick. Another knock as I did so. Big, heavy brass deal. I could two-hand it and do some damage.  
  
Softly, I went to the door. I breathed deeply a few times. This was it. I held up the candlestick in one hand and undid the lock as quietly as I could. I put my hand on the doorknob gingerly. Then turned it hard and meant to throw open the door, but then an explosion went off.  
  
Or it sure as hell felt like it. Whoever was on the other side kicked in the door the moment it clicked open. The door slammed loudly into the wall as it swung by the hinge. I was blown straight back just as hard, barely staying on my feet, and they used the momentum to push my head and shoulders down, forward, put an elbow to my back just under neck. That hurt so bad everything went white for a moment. Would have dropped to all fours except whoever it was swung their arm around my chest first.  
  
The tough putting the hurt on me slammed me into the vanity. The edge of the top dug into my gut just under the bones, of course, day I was having. Still dazed, the guy didn't get any resistance from me, pulling my arms behind my back where he could hold them together. Leaned on me that way too. Now, that was just excessive.  
  
"The money," he said in a loud, deep voice, a kind of gruff that bordered on a growl. Seemed he wasn't the kind of guy with an inside voice and he talked right in my ear. I groaned, still processing what the hell just happened. He expected me to talk right now? I looked up into the mirror to see what this guy looked like. I was surprised.  
  
He looked young, but his hair was completely white. Fella had an incredible poker face. If it weren't that he clearly didn't want to be pals, I'd be wrangling him into cards with me. He was wary, but patient about me responding, and didn't seem to care about emphasizing the fact that he could snap any one of my bones if he wanted. It was already obvious. The young buck was heavy and all muscle. Using his weight and momentum the way he did, no wonder he hit so hard.  
  
He had shoulders so broad and a neck so thick his shirt's top button couldn't close and the one under it was under some strain too. Right build for an enforcer alright, only he wasn't dressed like your average tough. He had a red tie, though sloppily done and loose- sort of an afterthought, given his collar situation I guess- and a red waistcoat too. Oddest of all, he wore a leather-brown duster like the Marshals.  
  
What struck me most of all was the look in his eyes. From time to time, I'd go for an alley and get put off by a stray dog. He had that look about him, only everything else said he was well trained enough to not go off and tear into your arm. Not until he had reason to, at least. I did not want to give him reason.  
  
"I-It's in the closet, leather satchel hanging off a hook there," I said.  
  
I got heaved up and over to the closet door.  
  
Mr. White Hair here had big paws, and let's just say I'm a lover, not a fighter, so he could just keep enough hand around my wrists to keep me from getting ideas. He opened the door, flipped the top of the satchel over, and took a rough count of the money in there.  
  
I did have to spend a bit for room and board but there shouldn't be too much less than what I left with. I mean, look at the hovel I was staying in. I was sweating bullets. If he wasn't happy with what he saw, he'd leave me with worse than a few sore spots. He didn't seem angry, though. Of course, with that expression, I couldn't bet he wasn't. He took the satchel off the hook onto his shoulder.  
  
The next piece of furniture I got heaved into was the dresser. I wondered if he was going for the whole collection. He took the earpiece off the phone there and spoke into the stand. "Operator? Fremont District 3106. Thanks."  
  
"Wait, wait, wait, what the hell? What are you calling my house number for? For that matter, how'd you get it?" I asked.  
  
I was ignored. "It's me. Got it. Want the ex on?"  
  
"Ex? We ain't divorced! She gonna divorce me?!" I exclaimed. "Wait, you're working for her? Her. Why that greedy bit-" All of a sudden, I saw stars.  
  
"Language," he said to me. Then he turned back to the phone. "What? Fumbled the earpiece. Mmhmm. Nah, I'll head there. Bye."  
  
He hung up and let go of me so suddenly, I near fell onto the floor. I stumbled after him, saying, "Hey, hey wait!"  
  
He was walking at an easy pace, so I fell in step and said, "If it's my wife, I still deserve at least the half of that. I was the breadwinner!"  
  
He was unmoved.  
  
"Come on, have a heart, you know what they'll do to me?" I asked.  
  
"Mort. You'll live."  
  
"Yeah, gumshoe, but they'll make me wish I didn't. H-how much she paying you? I'll pay you twice as much. Three times! Just- leave me with something."  
  
He slapped a few bills onto the table by the door as he passed by. I couldn't believe it. I said, "Are you kidding, this is just enough to feed and board me for maybe a month!"  
  
He slammed the door closed with finality. My chest tightened with dread. I was desperate. It made me stupid. I threw open the door and ran after him, grabbed his shoulder. "Hey, buddy!"  
  
He was shorter than me so I figured I had the advantage of leverage, reach, something. I socked him in the face as hard as I could as soon as he turned enough. He still managed to back off a little but I felt his nose against my fist.  
  
Before I could even make for the satchel, he stepped back and rammed his elbow into the hollow of my ribs. Hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I gasped. Next thing I knew, my back hit stone wall hard. I wheezed. I swallowed hard. Harder than I ever had in my life but just got the barest bit of air. I thought I would die, honestly. That wasn't what scared me the most, though. Before I even slid down the wall, the PI grabbed me hard by the collar. Didn't help my breathing and all I could do was look into his face.  
  
He was snarling. In the true sense of the word. You can say another guy snarled something at you but he was just being real nasty. This guy, he snarled like a- I couldn't even say dog no more. Something in his head had completely crossed the line, I could see it in his eyes. Now I wish I hadn't gotten him in the nose because the blood ran down his face, caught in some short hairs of beard, and into his mouth. His teeth were red with it.  
  
I was looking into the face of a beast out of the Wilds.  
  
I finally got a whole gulp of air and started breathing hard but I was still frozen with fear.  
  
Then that look in his eyes shifted. He still looked pissed off as all hell but I didn't feel like he'd tear me apart anymore. He let go of me and I fell in a heap on the floor.  
  
"Scram."  
  
I wasn't going to argue. I crawled on all fours at first, then stumbled into a walk for a little bit of dignity. I looked back. He was standing there watching me, blood dripping down his chin. I got into my room and shut the door behind me, leaning back and hands against it, and gulped. I decided I'd take Moneybags and his goons over that any day.

* * *

  
**_The Client_**  
  
There was a knock on the door.  
  
"One moment!" I hollered. "Keep at your studies, little miss, or I'll box your ears. You got questions you need help with though, it's alright if you leave them be until I get back."  
  
"Okay," my daughter grumbled.  
  
I waddled over to the door. My belly was getting awfully heavy. The neighbours agreed to start checking on me every once in a while so they could call the doctor for me if need be. I had to improvise. My man wasn't around anymore.  
  
I opened the door to see the young private eye I had hired. I gasped. He was holding a handkerchief to his nose, soaked with blood.  
  
"Ma'am," he said, as if he wasn't bleeding profusely.  
  
I gaped for a moment. I asked, "Oh, well, hello Mister Detective, would you like to come in?"  
  
He shook his head and gave me the satchel my husband— ex-husband— used to wear every day. The one that had gone missing with him one morning. I took it and looked down at it, then back up at him.  
  
"Um, can I... help with that?"  
  
He shook his head again and pushed at the bridge of his nose. I cringed a little but he was as stony faced as ever. At least he didn't look to be in pain over it.  
  
"Not broken."  
  
"Well, alright," I said. I handed over his money and he raised a brow then started counting it. Pretty impressive to do with one hand. I smiled. Couldn't get one past him, could I? "It's a tip, or, hazard pay. You've got to take it, I feel bad you got hurt."  
  
He shook his head at me again, pocketing his standard fee and putting the extra back in my hand firmly. He looked past me to my daughter at her studies, motioned towards her with his chin. I sighed.  
  
"Yeah, you're right," I said. We wouldn't have to go without, but only primary school was free. It was all I ever got. I wanted better for my daughter and my soon to be born.  
  
He began to leave, saying, "Ma'am."  
  
"Take care, Detective." I shut the door behind him.  
  
As I hear it, Kid hasn't been a private eye long but he's already made a name for himself. After all, few take cases from those who can only pay such a modest sum, and fewer still from the Ura. No matter how you felt about that last part, it made him stand out. He didn't take retainers or deposits, just pay if he got results. Which he did. He also had a reputation for being somewhat frightful.  
  
I won't lie, he put me on edge the first time he looked at me as I walked into his office and my typically boisterous daughter kept peeking at him from behind me the whole time. The chairs on both sides of his desk were hard wooden things, but he got out of his and pushed a cushioned one from between a lamp and the wood stove into place for me without a word. He must have delivered the money just now so I wouldn't have to travel like this.  
  
He was a bit odd, but I was real glad to have him on my side.

* * *

  
_**Ma**_  
  
I was reading the paper when I heard the door unlock and open. I lowered the volume on the radio and called, "Welcome home! You're back early. Guess you're not here to stay, huh?"  
  
My son grunted in the affirmative.  
  
I heard his heavy canvas duster thrown on the coat rack, his hopping and the thud of his boots pulled off. With me walking over, I met him on his way to the washroom. He must have left his waistcoat and tie on the rack too, since he just had his shirt on up top. He held a soaked handkerchief to his nose. It had absorbed all it could so his shirt sleeve was starting to get bloodied as well. There were specks on one side of his collar from when he got hit. This wasn't the first time I'd seen him hurt and not nearly the worst but I always hated to see him like this.  
  
"Oh, kiddo," I said and hugged him. He hugged me back with his free arm but kept his other one away, turning his head.  
  
"Ma," he said. "I'll bleed on your hair."  
  
"Of all the things to worry about!" I said, pulling back. "Well, go wash up. You put a basin in the tub and get some cold water in there, leave the shirt soaking. I'll get the blood out so it doesn't stain."  
  
"Mmhmm," he went. He knew the drill. He pulled me back in and nuzzled my hair with the side of his jaw roughly, playfully, mussing it up. I laughed. I guess this was his way of improvising.  
  
He spoke more around his loved ones which, thankfully, numbered more than me. I might be his only family by relation but some folks he knew from way back had casually adopted him, or he adopted them. Both, I suppose. Even then he wasn't a conversational type by any stretch. Still, he found ways of getting what he wanted across.  
  
He let me go and went in the washroom. I yelled after him at the door, "Love you too, son!"  
  
I went back to my paper.  
  
He was gruff and distant most of the time. Off to work before I got up and quiet during dinner. He only spoke, or grunted, enough to let me know he was listening. Still, he made an effort to let me know he loved me in his own way, even if that distance was still there. It had been this way since he had come back from the Wall for good. Physically, at least.  
  
Maybe I was being silly. Just not adjusting to my boy growing up. I swear though, sometimes I felt like I was still waiting for my son to come back to me.

* * *

  
_**Kid**_  
  
Taste in my mouth, still nasty and metallic with blood. All I could smell. Rush of water filled the basin loudly. Took off my shirt. Pushed it in a few times. Get that water in the fabric. Took my hands out, shook the water off. Damned cold. Left my hands red. Turned the faucet off. Dropped the hanky in there. Could see the blood swirl out. Always funny to watch.  
  
To the mirror now. Get a look at the damage. Just bruised, alright. Though I could see why everyone threw a fit. Things always bled more than you'd think. It was all over my nose, my mouth, my chin. Huh. Needed to shave. Didn't notice before. Dried blood will bring out those white hairs.  
  
Pyth. Looked like an animal. Reminded me of something. One sighting in particular, scouting.  
  
I was in wolf territory, but you never see 'em. Discreet, wily things. Stalked in shadows. Saw the wild meese herd before. Went to get a look at them again. Didn't expect to see just the one, taken down. Being torn into. One of them wolves looked up right at me. Snarled. Blood all over its muzzle, its bared teeth. I backed off. Kept looking at it. Can't turn your back. It kept watching me right back. What a fright. Meant to let it know I didn't want none of that. Well, I did. I was hungry. Meese is better meat than anything, out there. The wolves were just the better predators.  
  
That guy back there. The gambler, walked out on his family. Thee way he'd looked at me... Like I would tear his throat out. Moment I noticed, I felt real ugly inside. Made me snap out of it. Still feel badly, thinking about it. He was a jackass, but I didn't mean it. Putting the scare in him so bad. I don't mean to be like that.  
  
Started washing all my blood off my face. Real production now that it was all dry and crusty. Swished some water in my mouth to rinse it out. Much better. Didn't smell and taste all blood any more. Looked at myself in the mirror again. Just clean water dripping down my chin.  
  
"You're home," I muttered to my reflection. Kind of a nutter thing to do. Just- needed to remind myself sometimes. "Not the Wilds. Home. You're home."  
  
Still felt like something was missing. Or something was there that shouldn't be. Either way, I never fit in. Didn't know how to be. Not around people.  
  
Dried off my face. Ahh, nutter was right. No need to get so damn philosophical over a bloody nose. Gotta change my shirt. Grab a new hanky. Get to that meeting. Still would rather go back to the office. Phone wasn't ever ringing off the hook. Door was in no danger of being pounded down. Someone might need me, though.  
  
Said bye to Ma. Got an arm around her, kissed her on the head. Wasn't bleeding anymore. Her hair was safe.  
  
Always walked, if I could. Had plenty of time. So I walked. Our neighbourhood was old. Our entire district was. Hastings District wasn't quite Old Quarter. Right on the border, though.  
  
Once, it had been a nice district. Main thoroughfare, shops and theatres. Still had that old kinda charm. Houses were nice too. Most any building in the city was stone. Being a Mason gave me an eye for it. Master Urist gave me an appreciation. They were impressive, once. Grand to look at, when they came into this world.  
  
Now it was pretty rough. Shops didn't stock finery. What theatres were left... Well, a handful were respectable. Classics and vaudeville. Most were burlesque. Lots of factories now. My agency's office was here too. Building's rent was cheap. Close enough I could run home, need be. Rich folks didn't come around much. Only ever wanted to find out if they were being cheated on. Waste of time.  
  
Folks moved on if they could. Folks moved in if they couldn't elsewhere. Folks like me and my Ma, we stuck around from way back. Lots of families did. Homes were one storey deals. Maybe a root cellar. Places polite old Aunt Maude called 'cozy.' Important thing, they were paid up. Weren't unbearably drafty. I could do most of the fixing up. It was alright.  
  
Whole area could use fixing up. That was more than I could do. The dust and soot blackened everything. It'd just get dirty the next day anyway. All the factories. I looked at darkened images of Pyth. They looked right back at me. Those once proud buildings have been worn. The elements eroded them. People here were the same way.  
  
Wear a person down, all you got were the basics. The things for survival. Not for polite society. Still, they clung onto something. Something that still showed how fine they once were. Or could be. Wear a person down more, even that would go. What was inside came out. Sometimes it was ugly. That came out at night. Sought the dark. In this city, there was plenty of dark.  
  
I kept taking alleys. Small roads. Didn't like main road smoke, noise. Streetcars ran on core powered rail. I liked them fine. Wheeled cars, they burnt things up. Nasty smell. Leaving core power area? Take a damn horse, I say. Still had to pass through main road. Lots more folks milling about here.  
  
Folks of means in this city were always moving on. Moving to brighter pasture. Building up this glorious city. The poor, the sick, the unwanted left straggling. Left them easy prey. Prey for those worn down to something ugly. Or ugly inside just 'cause it was easier. Hell, plenty of either type were folks of means. Thanks to them using up stragglers. Or folks up the family tree doing so. I didn't like it.  
  
That's why I was at my agency every day. Why I kept as fit as I could. Why I tried to be discreet and wily. Stalking in shadows. Sniffing out. Listening. Everything I learned out there. Kept me alive in here, too, so far. As long as it did, I'd help the stragglers. I had to be the better predator to do that. Just, one that helped people who couldn't fight back themselves. The distinction made me a little better. A little better. You had to cling onto something.

* * *

  
  
**_Chapter/Setting Notes_**  
  
Unless I can't think of anything to add, I'll be having chapter notes at the end about things in there I want to talk about, usually anachronisms and allusions. I'm sure this will be the longest by far.  
  
So! General setting notes:  
  


  * First and foremost, this isn't strictly a period piece and I will be pretty loose with things. After all, this is ultimately a story I'm doing for fun that I hope you enjoy too and [Bob Ross voice] "In your world, you can do whatever you want."
  * I try to keep things like technology and such true to the 1900s give or take a decade. There are a few conscious anachronisms that, like I said, I will point out and explain my reasons for. Most notably, profanity. I can't get the impact on readers I want with period language. I do try to keep the slang period friendly.
  * I like to listen to jazz and swing but I'm no musician or historian so I'm not sure of music theory and terminology or clear on how exactly it fit in and developed in reality. Apologies in advance for anything the more learned roll their eyes at. In fact, most of the music used is mid-century but hell if I can find period jazz. I-I guess the musicians in this story are just incredible visionaries, okay. Okay? Okay, great, I'm glad you understand, thanks.
  * Related to above, the song attached to this chapter is from '81, as the video title says, but it's my absolute favourite cover of Harlem Nocturne (written 1939) so whatever don't tell me how to live my life. All chapters will have attached songs, either by a female vocalist or instrumental.
  * Hardboiled detective fiction is the major inspiration for all this. It's why the setting tone is not at all like how Rucks implies in-game. Kid's characterization is a bit of an interplay as well. He isn't much like Philip Marlowe, Sam Spade, or other genre icons. He's a mix of being gritty and broody as needs be but also a huge fucking dork as he should be (imho). As a matter of fact, there's not much focus on his cases and how he works them like actual crime fiction at all.
  * Speaking of Kid's characterization, it's really left up to you far more than the other characters from the game. Other than the fact that he feels bad about things when he's tripping, he's a blank slate. The baseline, who he is as you're being introduced to him here, was inspired by Liam Neeson's character in The Grey (I imagine him to have Neeson's nose, actually, I gave him it in [that drawing](http://ivedugmyhole.tumblr.com/post/138388900066/drawings-new-to-me-but-i-wanted-to-show-how-kid)) and Tom Hardy in Mad Max: Fury Road (speaking mostly just when necessary, his voice being really gruff, and preferring gestures). Seriously, if you want to know what I’m trying to get at with Kid’s voice, listen to a clip of Max speaking. Anyway, when I write longform, I'm all about character development so, good news to anyone annoyed with the clipped speech, this will change. Eventually.
  * I prefer to keep things less exposition dump or said outright, but I'm afraid I will have to with Kid's past in this story and on the others too just so I can move along. I've tried to make it so it isn't too boring.
  * This is going to be varying characters’ First Person POV throughout so ~I hope you don’t mind that~
  * Meese are mentioned in unused game lines. I’m using them here like deer because I find the word meese too adorable. They seem to have been some sort of livestock kept underground that would could wild on you before they were cut from the game, though.
  * Lastly, especially if you’re all the way here, thanks for reading. I hope you’ve enjoyed this and will continue to. I’d love it if you stuck around. Feel free to send me asks any time, though I can’t guarantee I’ll give you a straight answer if it’s something that will be in future chapters.
  * Please do [send me asks](http://ivedugmyhole.tumblr.com/ask) for anything: comments, concrit, reviews, even saltiness (just be gentle I am delicate). This is more Tumblr based and AO3 is more of a mirror, fyi. I will try and remember to check for feedback here if it's more convenient for you and you would be so kind!
  * Seriously, thank you.




	2. Cry Me A River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse in the life and mind of Rucks.

_**[Chapter Song as performed by Julie London](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2F7fdynmsMomw&t=ZGJiODRmMzNiYTgwZjMyNmJhYTNjMjgwYWI1MmIyNzNiYTNmZWM5OCxKUENlVnRvdg%3D%3D) ** _

_**Note:**_ This actually isn't Chapter 2 on Tumblr, but “Chapter 1.5” because I’ll be having short length chapters between full ones. They’ll be about things I think are worth being part of the story but don’t quite fit in with full chapters. Not necessarily for length; maybe for tone, flow, passage of time, or whatnot. AO3 doesn't support my harebrained idea of half-chapters so they're in the index like full ones. They alternate, though, so you'll always know; even numbered chapters will be halfsies.

Previous  
Tumblr: [01](http://ivedugmyhole.tumblr.com/post/138499835086/kid-pi-act1-ch01-the-private-investigator)

* * *

_**Rucks** _

I awoke in the early morning as usual and got out of bed, stretching. Over at the big ol’ windows of the master bedroom, I’d always take a gander at Caelondia. What a city. Well, not that I could see much of it from here.

The family home was just a two storey deal and the cellars. Of course, some of the fellas from the office had three or more storey homes but they were usually newer or from families that had always been wealthy. Well, look at me now. Rubbing elbows with the best of them. In Caelondia, you could always rise up thanks to hard work and grit. ‘Course even a modest house like this was awful empty for a lone old man like me. I didn’t have the number of servants we had when I was just a kid. Didn’t need it. They passed on or passed away over the years. How times changed.

“Sir,” the butler said from just inside the door. “Your bath has been drawn.”

“Good man. Good work on finding that new maid, by the way. Shame to let that last one go. Sweetheart, but she could be awful forgetful. Woke up sometimes without a fire in the fireplace and the curtains still closed, can you believe that?” I shook my head, making my way over.

“Yes sir, my apologies.”

Walking to the washroom always meant seeing the large painted portrait of the family at the top of the stairwell. I was a young man then. Me in my Trigger uniform, mother and father in their finery with more than a hint of pride in their eyes. Ah, those were the days.

Of course, mother always was sore at me later on for never settling down. Starting a family. I never let on I was sore at myself too. Still am, truth be told. Ah, well. A fella can’t go dwelling on stuff like that too much.

After I had my bath and put on my robe, I called the butler in to be shaved. Now this fella I’d never let go of. He had a way with a razor to beat a barber. The massacar oil might be a bit much, my mustache always did hold on it’s own, but it was nice touch. Seeing how as he had taken on valet duties as well, he put on my slippers and showed me to my dressing room. The fine fella already had my clothes laid out and helped me dress in no time. A good thing too, I was hungry and I always awoke with a thirst.

If there was one servant I was even fonder of than the butler, it was the cook. By the time I got to the dining room, there was a fine spread of food for breakfast. I never ate all of it, of course. Couldn’t if I tried. Great thing was, I always had my choice of the lot. Delicious all of them, and she made a damn fine cup of tea too. I had finished off a second pot by the time I got up from the table.

I could have stayed all day if it were up to me but a man has his duties.

“Have a good day, sir,” the butler said as he put my coat on. “I’ve had the chauffeur heat up the car already, of course.”

I left and the chauffeur helped me into the car. To the Mancer’s office, the old grind. It was a wasn’t a terrible long ride but enough to give me the sights. I liked it that way.

I passed by streetcars packed with people going to work, running on that magic old core power. Saw utilities and buildings Menders fixing what needed fixing. Thankless work. The most important kind. Hell, speaking of, there were the street sweepers. Plenty of folks were still using horse drawn things. They really ought to switch over, it weren’t that much to get a car now. The sweepers, it was their job to take care of the manure. Boy, was I glad to not be them. These were the sort of folks who kept this great city running.

It was my job at the Mancers’ office to make it run even better. There were other Mancers and other work, of course. All of us pushing the limits of knowledge and science for the city in our own ways. Whether or not they thought it, these fine folks needed us to.


	3. The Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting of... Strangers?

**_Chapter Song:[Brother Can You Spare A Dime as performed by Abbey Lincoln](https://youtu.be/--VoDLuUh18)_ **

Finally, I can get to endearing characters after this. Woof. _ **  
**_

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_**Runo** _

Rucks pulled up in his car just down the way and said something to his driver, who nodded. I'd never get used to seeing those contraptions, and I was happy never to ride in one.

In the first place, you may as well have taken a horse for the speed they could get to and be much safer for it. In the second, you wouldn't look half so silly on a horse if you had a real ugly one with a funny gait and wore a costume jewellry dress. Whoever had the idea to take the bottom half of a carriage, slap bicycle wheels onto it, and rig the whole thing up to a motor was an idiot who thought he was a genius. Which is why Rucks rode one, I supposed. He and all the Mancers and other capital letters City Men.

Then again, he was an old comrade. My current employer, to boot, so I walked down to meet him and reminded myself to keep a lid on all that.

Over all the fancy clothing and the robe, he still wore a blue double breasted coat with those bright brass buttons, just like when he was my officer, and a shoulder belt too. No sidearm in it now, of course. No need for that or a carbine, either. Pyth, but I'd never trade pants in for one of those robes looking all like a skirt down there. Not if I won a million bucks. Not that I knew much about fashion, wearing an undershirt and jeans near every day, but I was a working man.

He spoke up even before I could, as soon as I was close enough to hear.

"Can't stay for long, Runo. How does she look?"

"All business, huh? Fine, take a look whenever you can hobble on up." I fell into step beside him. He whapped my leg with that cane of his. "Grouch. You don't even need that thing. You boys in the Department of War have a fanciest looking cane competition going, or something?"

He chuckled. "That would be the sort of thing they'd do. It's Department of Defense now, and I'm just collaborating with them as a Mancer. Still different departments."

I rolled my eyes at name change and particulars. Didn't make no difference in practice.

"Nah, I do need it," Rucks sighed. "When it's rainy or whatnot. We ain't so young anymore, are we?"

"No, we ain't. Me all grey, soft around the edges, and my kids grown. You all white-haired and no family at all. Never were much of a people person, were ya? You could maybe still find a cute ol' gal, especially since you could treat her with anything she wanted. If only you'd get back in shape. You sit around too much, Rucks. That car and all. Eat and drink like a king too, don'tcha?"

I grinned at him. If nothing else, being around him made me feel better about my own age. All grey was right, but the only white was in my temples and the bottom of my goatee- what my kids called my billy goat tuft. I could still swing a hammer just fine too, even if I didn’t look it with the beer belly.

"Hey now, I stand when I draft and chart. Can't believe you're even teasing about my eating habits. Ain't nothing wrong with a man enjoying the finer things in life. The other thing, I don't need no heartache anymore. Anyway, I ain't here for you to henpeck me, I'm here for- ah there she is," he said as we crested the hill. "Always quite a thing to see something I dreamt up, made real and true. The Monument."

We kept on to get right up to the thing. Dark stone but veined with green I could swear sometimes actually glowed.

"It's real pretty alright, but I still don't get your priorities on the building order. 'Course I'm glad to have the skyway with such a long trip by road, but the control room and Monument? Hell, Rucks, we ain't even got power yet. We're digging out the ground for foundation on the buildings just now."

"The Monument and control room are the heart of the place," he said, crouching down to take a good look. "Without them, there's no point to the Bastion. Skyway's the only other thing as important."

"If you say so but if the Monument's so important, you sure you shoulda used that stone? It's like flint or obsidian or something. Real brittle. That quake a while ago, thought I'd get back to the site and see it cracked up all over."

"Aw, she's sturdier than all that," Rucks said, patting the thing, "'Sides, it wasn't much of a quake. Just the land stirring from it's slumber and shaking itself awake a little. Wouldn't affect her function even if she got all cracked up like you feared. Anyway, we ain't got a choice. It had to be this stone. Got special qualities."

It really was strange stone. Warmer to the touch than you'd expect and, if I weren't just imagining it, had the faintest hum. Like a cat purring. Though it'd have to be a cat with a sweater on.

"Yeah? I'm real curious about it but if it's so rare and I'm never going to work with it, I guess it doesn't matter. What does matter," I said, crouching with him so I could get in his face, "Is that damn building crew you've stuck me with."

"What about 'em? They did fine work last job."

"Yeah, 'cause I watched 'em like a hawk the entire time. Some real lunkhead work could have slipped past if I hadn't caught it. Between that, having to do things myself, and coordinating everything, I'm running around like a headless chicken!"

"Just how many animals were on that job?" Rucks chuckled, getting back up.

I didn't share his humour just now. I got up and poked him in the chest. "One. One that was going crazy, name of Runo. I want someone to help supervise and do what those damn fools can't."

"Now who's the grouch," he said, brushing my hand off. "Tall order. You're a real hard-ass about masonry. That's what I like about you, but it can be a real pain too. Gonna take a lot of scouting to find someone you'll actually take."

"Well, you ain't gotta worry about that. I know a kid. Just in his mid-twenties or so but he was a damn good Mason and did a stint in fine masonry as well. His work I never could complain about."

"You don't say. That's something. Guess your still visiting the Wall all the time pays off after all. What I'm wondering now is who did he work for and why'd he leave? You said just a stint."

"He was just working 'til he came of age so he could join one of the armed guilds," I said. I gave Rucks a look for a bit. He wouldn't like this next part. "Don't know the mason he worked for in the meanwhile, some Ura fella," I said, quickly adding, "Just 'til he could leave. Then he joined the Marshals as soon as he could; he'd wanted to be one ever since he was learning to read."

"Apprenticed under an Ura? Pyth, Runo, this is a City job we're talking about."

"Don't you work with an Ura right in City Works?"

"Now don't give me that. That's different. He's a subordinate and I make sure he knows it. Gave me a hell of a time when he was younger, too. Man's got a temper, but he's quiet now. This kid was learning from one of them snow moles," he sneered. "Who knows what he picked up other than masonry?"

"Rucks," I said. "He was a Mason. Did more than his share, actually. Usual Mason's work is hard enough, but this kid was so good they kept sending him on scouting missions. Hell, I reckon he spent more time doing Brusher or Trapper work than with a hammer. You know how picky the Marshals are too, once he was in they put him through the wringer and never found reason to kick him out. Track record like that, you think a year or so with an Ura employer makes it a pile of beans?"

"Runo, you ain't pulling my leg are you? Trying to upsell him? Hard to believe. If he was a Mason, there wouldn't even be enough time for all that."

I raised my brows at him and turned to get over to the east end of the Bastion site. I waited until Rucks got beside me and looked over the horizon with me to speak. We were at the highest point in the city.

"Look at the Wall, near Cinderbrick Fort. Unbelievable we can see it even from here but that's how you've dreamt it up, haven't you? Bigger than ever before. Maybe you haven't noticed, but it wears Masons down even more than the one we worked on. Harder work and more of it. Sentiment ain't as rah-rah as after the Great War, neither. People ain't exactly stepping on each other to take up the hammer, no matter how generous the purse is. The fellas who sign up now are mostly either doing it 'cause their daddies did or 'cause they're desperate.

"Recruitment boys've been letting kids lie about their age for who knows how long. I think this kid's the youngest they've let in yet. I watched him grow up on the Wall- or outside of it, mostly."

I looked over at him for any sort of reaction, a response, anything. Nothing. I sighed. He really was out of touch. Kid was a casualty of that.

"'Sides," I continued, "Working under an Ura just means he's got some of their tricks up his sleeve. The both of us know they got a way with stone. The land."

"Yeah. All too well," Rucks said.

I felt my eyes drift over to where our squadron would have fought. Not one of us who was on the front lines in the Great War would ever forget what kind of havoc the Ura wrought.

Sometimes, I still have nightmares of falling off my horse when she reared up, stone column rising out of the ground in front of us all of a sudden. Dazed from the fall, watching comrades get trampled by the very steeds they'd brushed, cared for, rode with for years. Man and beast, no matter how well trained, decorated, or elite, all scared out of their wits.

You couldn't lose your wits out there and have much hope of surviving. Not with how fast Ura warriors are.

Rucks inhaled deeply. He must have had a flash of memory as well. "Alright, fair enough. Can the Marshals spare him?"

"Oh. Well," I said. I guess I'd made it sound like Kid was still with them before. Rucks wasn't going to like this next part. Again. "He ain't a Marshal no more."

"What? Why not?" He asked. "You said he wanted to be one since he was a little boy. It don't sound like he couldn't handle it, either."

"Problems with the brass," I said, spreading my hands. "Look, you know how they are. You lick their boots or they treat you like dirt, no matter what kinda good you're doing. So, he's got an independent streak. That just makes him a better employee, 'specially for fellas like me and you who don't want workers we gotta watch all the time."

"There's a fine line between independent and insubordinate," Rucks said. "So what's a fool who quit the Marshals do now?"

"He's still as dedicated to the City and the kinda work Marshals do as ever. Might be more like obsessed, really. He had to hand in his badge so now he's toting a private dick's license. Can't pull him away from it even though the money he's pulling in is lousy. That's the only reason I can get him on, our pay's good, and still he's only doing part time. All the same, I'll take him as a part-timer over some run of the mill idiot full time any day."

"Sounds like an awful lot of trouble. Both him and working out employment terms. I'll think about it then get back to you."

"Damn it, Rucks. I knew you'd be a lunkhead about taking my word for it. I need him now, not whenever you can get around to it. So meet him and see for yourself," I said.

"Pyth, Runo, you're ambushing me with the kid?"

"Like I could get you to meet otherwise," I said, looking at my wristwatch. "He should be here any second now."

"I got places to be," Rucks grumbled.

I opened my mouth, then thought better of it and kept hush. We both started walking between the lots dug down just enough to break the grass and give off the smell of dirt. We were far west of any city noise. Only area with a plot of solid land big enough for Rucks' project.

I looked at the old man. Time had been kind to him. He still looked pretty impressive, especially with that mustache. You put him beside the fella who led me into battle, the one I swung a Mason's hammer beside though, he was nothing. Not to me. Not 'cause of age, either. The fella I knew was fearless. Gave people a fair shot, too. Otherwise, the rich boy officer would never have become pals with a working class grunt like me.

We got to the front of the monument again and stood there. As we passed, I gave it a good look.

What did he have me working on now, I wondered? He wouldn't even tell me the half of it, only that it was some kind of emergency shelter or device or something. Then there was what he'd turned the newest iteration of the Wall into. The one we worked on was already kicked up a notch after the War put the scare in us.

That scare never left him. He wouldn't even admit it. Not to me or himself.

I didn't even recognize this guy anymore. Hell, if it weren't for our history I wouldn't give him the time of day. I grit my teeth and looked away.

I saw Kid coming up the road soon enough and was damn glad to, getting to thinking like I was. Silly fella hated skyways. I waved and he put a hand up to greet me. He really did remind me of my own kids, in a way. I wondered if they would ever get their own turn at the city or if Rucks and the other City Men wouldn't ever let them.

"There he is now. He's not much for words. He says what needs to be said and answers any questions you got, though. Easy to work with, just hard to have a friendly chat with. Like I said, he spent an awful lot of time out in the Wilds. You know what that can do," I said, giving him a glance.

Come to think of it, I never saw Rucks at the Vets' Hall. If he ever did come 'round and saw the ones who kept to themselves? Mother, even he might feel sorry about what the City had asked of these fellas.

Rucks said, "As long as he's as good as you say. You sure that's our kid, though? Hair's white as snow. Hell, white as mine."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention. It's weird, alright, says it runs in the family."

Kid was right up on us and he shook my hand firmly, looking me right in the eye. I knew him well enough that it wasn't unnerving, but he really needed to learn to smile at times like this. Or not. That might just make him more spooky to other folks. The nose wasn't helping.

"Pyth, Kid, you get in a fight?"

He nodded. "Work."

"You're, uh, kinda leaking there, pal. Left nostril."

He sighed and held a handkerchief in his left hand to plug up the blood. He went and shook Rucks' hand with his right.

"Kid," he said in introduction.

"Rucks," came the response.

For a long while, they didn't let go. Not in that warm, old friends forgot or didn't care they still had a hold of each other way, and not the tough guys staring each other down way either. They were staring each other straight in the eye, alright, just not sizing each other up all mean.

Kid had his head leaning a little to one side the way he did when he was real curious and Rucks didn't look any less puzzled, brows furrowed. Oddest of all, I swear my back to the Monument felt just the way my bare hand did if I put it on the stone. Only I was feet away and wearing clothing.

"He's hired."

Kid and I looked at each other.

"Well," I said, "That settles that, then. Hope you're not missing out on anything 'cause of us, Kid."

"Just boxing practice," he shrugged.

"Well hell, maybe for the best with that nose, huh? Then again, you took a hit like that, you could use more practice."

"Suckerpunch," he said. He actually looked a bit defensive so I laughed and clapped him on the arm.

"I believe it. Hey, take a look around if you like. It's not much right now but it's gonna be your worksite for a while."

He took my suggestion and Rucks told me to walk him to his car, so I made my way down the grass hill with him. After we got a ways off, I asked, "What was all that about?"

"Hell if I know," Rucks said. "Something so familiar about that kid. I was trying to remember if I'd ever met him before. I felt like I have, I really did. Felt like I truly wanted to remember. Ahh, who knows. Been too long since I trusted my instincts, anyway."

"Didn't want to say anything, but..." I earned another cane whap. "Hey, it's true, y'know. I won't henpeck you again but it'd be nice to see more of that guy back there."

"Who, the kid?"

"No, no, you. You've been like another person so long. Miss my old buddy jumping into fool's ventures and taking risks 'cause they just might work out. Not this— this." I gestured at him in general.

We were at his car. He gave me that sober, scolding look I'd grown too accustomed to for it to affect me. Used to be like salt on a slug back when he was my Trigger officer, though. As he climbed up into his car and his driver started it up, his expression faded into one of contemplation. "Maybe you're right."

He said it real quiet. Stubborn ass.

"Well, so long, Runo. Seeya next time."

"Seeya, Rucks. Don't be a stranger, now."

'Course, he already was.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Venn** _

I heard the regular clack of a cane approaching me. Ugh. It was him. No one else came and bothered me.

"Venn," he greeted.

"Rucks," I spat back.

"How's your work on core efficiency coming?" He asked. "Awful eager to have enough juice that we can reroute some to the Bastion without the rest of the city noticing one bit. Wanna feel that Monument hum, see that control room light up."

"The conduit tunnel isn't even finished being mined out yet, is it not? I don't see why the rush."

"Tunnel's coming along real nice. Everything on schedule for once," he said. "You'll probably get the core work done first, but this old man is awful excitable to test it all out."

I don't care if you're excited, you racist old coot.

"I am making good progress but with the way the City has been treating the cores, I have much to do. They have no idea how to even work with those stones, do they? Simply building around them seeing what works without understanding. Nor making any attempt to understand," I grumbled. I raised my brows at Rucks. "You are putting a lot of stock in my work."

"Well you ain't a lunkhead like the most of those DoD fellas. Hopeless. Shook up the damn city with that test fire 'cause their left hands can't find their rights. Why you think I snapped you up the moment you got a Mancer's desk?"

"Suspicion, I figured. You did keep an eye on me endlessly. Scolded me like I was a brat instead of a peer," I said.

"Well, not as much," Rucks said. I was right, his tone betrayed it. "Your test scores were off the charts. However I might feel about pales, I had it cut out for me in City Works all by my lonesome, and damned if you can pry the rest of these fellas away from the other departments' fat purses."

"Hmph. Greedy idiots." I lived an austere lifestyle and even treating my daughter with whatever I thought she might want, giving her the best education possible, Mancer base pay was more than enough. "As though I could have changed departments even if I wanted. The others thought I was some hotheaded maniac only you could handle, thanks to how you made me seem."

"Well, it weren't no lie. Mother, did you ever have a temper. Don't think I ever had to discipline a soldier in the Triggers as much as I did you," he chuckled.

I hated him invoking Micia the easy way he did. I hated when he mentioned his war days. He was so fond, light hearted, proud of it. He made no attempt of hiding it and had the gall to act like that in my face. He had not a care that it was his precious war which made me an orphan. I had nowhere to go but a city where I was seen as the other, unwanted. A pale, as he said, but it was no use trying to tell him all that.

"Perhaps. What is your excuse, I wonder, for taking credit for all of my work over the years?"

"Hey now," he said. "I wasn't taking credit. It's always the project lead's name on the papers. It's just I was project lead all the time- and don't give me that look. The both of us know we wouldn't get the funding we'd need if it were your name there."

He was right. I felt disgusted thinking about that.

"Venn, now I know you resent me and I can't blame you," Rucks said. Fatherly. Preposterous, he thought of himself as a benevolent figure. "But there was reason in all that and I know you see it. If you wanted to change departments now, you could. You ain't though, have you?"

"As you have said, you wouldn't be able to do what needs to be done without me. It is necessary work. Besides, as much as I may hold you in contempt, at least we are accustomed to each other. 'The devil you know,' I believe the saying goes."

"That it does. Good thing you've long learned to keep that temper under control. Keep your head down, not attract attention. I think those DoD boys been giving you the eye, and I know you want to work for them least of all."

"Department of Defense," I snorted. "The Wall and the Bastion are the defensive projects. Our projects. I hate to think of what they're working on."

Rucks was silent. With his seniority, service record, and the military worshiping attitude these Cael had, there was no way he didn't know. They treated him with too much respect to keep him out. They trusted him. Of course I'd be left untold. They feared me somehow reporting back to the Terminals. The only way they'd ever let me onto their machinations and conspiring is if they were sure I had no choice but to keep quiet.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Chapter Notes:** _

Researching top speeds of cars came up with a lot of different answers with domestic (not high end or race) cars being ~45mph. I noticed people would point out the top safe speed was the real question. So Runo's remarks about horses vs cars comes from speed limits up to the 1920s being 10-20mph and a canter averaging 10-17mph, depending on the horse.

When Runo says goatee, I'm using modern usage to refer to the beard style that makes a rectangular shape around the mouth. In period, it would have been called a Van Dyke but that's weird to me.


	4. Sing Me A Swing Song (And Let Me Dance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the rest of the day shot in terms of business, Kid comes home early and spends some time with his momma.

___**[Chapter Song as performed by Ella Fitzgerald](https://youtu.be/_OiMHoJgBOo) ** _

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_**Ma** _

"Home early again! You better not be bloody again," I chastised my son. I met him at the door where he was taking off his boots and coat.

"No. Well," he said. "Nose leaking. Nothing new."

"I suppose that'll have to do. Not running out on me again, are you?"

"Nah, Ma," he said. "Well. You get sick of me, I can go. Head to The Duke's."

"You don't have to worry about that, kiddo." He was so rarely home for any period of time. I was eager to spend the whole evening with him. I noticed him look towards the radio I had going quietly in the living room. This song...

"Hey," he said. "One of your favourites."

"So it is. How did you know that?"

"'Course I notice. Don't forget either," he said. We went in and he turned the volume knob up, so we could really hear the song. An upbeat old classic, a real toe tapper. I began dancing a little in place without even thinking about it.

My boy watched, amusement in his eyes. "Ought exercise more, huh? Doctor's orders. Light stuff. Like dancing."

"Oh yes, it's been so long since we've danced together!" I went over and he took me in his arms.

"Been a while. Try not to step on your toes."

"Oh, I'm sure you won't. It was just your awkward years you had trouble," I laughed, recalling. "You did develop quickly. Shot right up like a sprout! Had touble getting used to that, didn't you? Oh, but you always have been a quick study with this sort of thing. It'll be back to you faster than you know."

We just stepped side to side for now, getting a feel for each other and the rhythm.

It had been a while indeed, but not overly long. Maybe a matter of weeks. Besides, it had been a lifelong practice. When I was in good health I was quite the dancer, and I wanted him to be as well, so I always taught him. Or tried to. I thought back to when he was so young, just in the early years of grade school, he didn't even really have the coordination to dance. Just hopping and flailing about. We both had a blast anyway. I wasn't kidding about his awkward years, just before he left. Then again, I couldn't have been much of a teacher then.

Now we started tepping forward and back too. He was still a bit tentative, but that little one sided smile of his beamed at me all the while.

"You know," I said. "What we do is fun but I wish you'd take me to lessons. Unless you're too embarrassed to take your mother?"

"Ha, with my hair who could tell?" He joked, "Nah, don't care. Wait. Ugh. Not thinking ol' ballroom? Awful stuffy. Well... If you really want to. I guess. Foxtrot seems alright," he muttered and squinted in thought. I smiled. He was playing chess in his head over this.

A lightbulb went up in his head. "Ragtime. That'd be fun. Once you're healthier."

I laughed. "Yes, right now my heart would give out."

"Heck, new style at Duke's. Call it swing. Looks fun. No classes for that, though. I just watch, so... No instruction here."

"Well, why don't you get on the dancefloor and have a nice girl teach you?"

He raised a brow, giving me a look that said I should know better. I said, "A mother can hope, can't she?"

His smile took on a wry bent.

We stopped talking, and really started having fun with it. We were both rusty indeed but we managed to keep my toes well intact. If anything, he picked up again better than me. I think he's told me before that footwork was a big part of boxing. Still, we both fumbled and made missteps. I'd laugh and he'd smile. At one point he tried to dip me, and we nearly fell over so he started into an embarrassed little chuckle.

I was far from the bedridden, addle minded thing I was when he left for the Wall. I was still rather frail, so I tired more quickly than I liked. I didn't want to stop and sit, so I leaned on my boy and rested my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes.

"Alright, Ma?" He asked.

"Oh, yes. This is lovely, I want to keep going. I just need a little breather."

We were just barely stepping side to side now as the news bulletin droned on. The next song came on, one of those newer jaunty jazz tunes.

"Well now, it's my turn to point out a favourite. Oh, I wish I had the energy to dance with you, I know you like it so."

"That's alright," he said, and hummed along.

"Sing it for me, will you?" I asked.

He hesitated, but started singing softly in my ear.

"You have a fine singing voice, son. I don't know why you're so bashful about it."

He interrupted his singing with an 'ehhhh' at that and I laughed. He never believed my compliments, said I had to say that because I was his mother.

He would sing around the house all the time when he was small. As he got older, he'd sing just when he thought no one could overhear. Ever since he came back, I've never heard him sing even then. When I could coax him into singing though, it brought back the teenager and little boy in my mind. He still loved to, I could tell.

He stopped with a, "Darnit," and pulled his hanky out of his pocket. He kept singing, now sounding off with one nostril closed off. I tried not to laugh too hard into his shoulder so he wouldn't get embarrassed.


End file.
